by Darrin Long
The Black Stone of Elu
A Novel
By
Darrin Long
Copyright © 2018 Darrin Long
All rights reserved in Accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at [email protected].
Chapter 1
A CRY FOR HELP
Neilan stood at the edge of the woods looking down the main road into the village of Mar. He could hear the other children playing a game of Tig. He really loved that game, but he knew that the other children would never play it with him. If he wanted to play it, he would have to play it with his mum out behind the cottage. He shrugged his shoulders and kicked a rock.
“Not much fun with only two,” he mumbled as he made his way back to the cottage with his daily kill from the forest. “It’s not my fault I have this huge forehead with a stupid mark on it.”
He had a birthmark on his oversized forehead that resembled two Ts and all the children made fun of him for it.
“Hey fathead, ye been hiding in the woods again?” One of the boys yelled when they saw him walking into town.
“We heard ye screaming again last night” another boy said, “Were the monsters chasing ye again?”
Neilan just ignored the laughs; if he did not he would just end up fighting the boys and not just one at a time either.
“I promised Mum I wouldn’t fight,” he said quietly as he reached up and touched the birthmark on his forehead.
He turned down an alley that lead back to the little run-down cottage that he and his mum rented from the owner of the tavern for a lot more than it was worth. Neilan had been hunting in the forest for two years now to provide for himself and his mum. She wasn’t in very good health and couldn’t keep a job so, at the age of twelve he took over providing for the family by selling meat and furs. He didn’t mind it though; his time in the forest was his favourite time of all. He was a great shot with the bow; better than most of the grown men in the village and the solitude of the forest made him feel, well, normal. The forest could be unforgiving, but in ways that made sense to Neilan. Men never seemed to make sense, no matter how hard he tried to understand them.
He walked around behind the cottage and leaned his bow up against the stone wall that marked the end of the garden. Looking out over the wall into the fields beyond, he wondered what it would be like to leave Mar and travel into the world. His mum always wanted to travel.
“Foolish,” he said, shaking his head and pulling out his skinning knife.
He knew that his mum couldn’t travel far and he wasn’t going anywhere; she needed him here. His da had disappeared when he was young and left them to fend for themselves. Neilan couldn’t remember him at all and the only thing his mum had told him was that his da had the same birthmark on his forehead and that he too knew how to handle a bow.
“Neilan, would ye like some tea?” his mum called from the cottage.
“Yes ma’am,” he said turning to see her leaning out the window.
Nelan smiled to himself. His mum’s name is Louise and though she isn’t young, she is still a beautiful woman. Several of the men from the village had shown interest in her as a wife, but they weren’t interested in taking in the strange looking boy so, she politely declined their offers.
“Here ye are love,” she said as she handed him a cup of tea. “How are ye feeling today?”
“I’m fine,” he said sipping the tea.
“Ye had another nightmare last night”. She said, brushing his hair out of his eyes.
Neilan looked down at his tea. “Sorry,” he said, “I didn’t know I was screaming.”
“No, ye don’t worry about that,” she said, “the villagers will just have to get over it.”
She started coughing and he could hear it coming from deep in her lungs. She had been coughing a lot lately and each day it seemed to be getting worse, but they couldn’t afford the doctor. She stopped coughing and gave him a weak smile as she poured him some more tea. Neilan was glad for that wonderful smile of hers; she was always able to melt away his fears and worries with that loving smile.
“Still seeing monsters?” she asked.
Neilan nodded.
“Yer under too much stress for a boy yer age,” she said with tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry that I haven’t been able to provide for ye the way I should. When yer da left-”
Neilan sat down his tea and put his arms around her.
“Things will get better mum, I promise,” he said, “I can take care of us both.”
She put her hands on his cheeks, “Yer a good boy” she said and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
“I’ve got work to do,” he said as he returned to his skinning and his mother took the tea inside.
That night, there was a knock on the door. Neilan heard his mum answer it and he could hear Mr Pool; the tavern owner’s voice. Neilan could tell that he was drunk and angry about something and it didn’t take long for Neilan to realize what it was; it was him.
“The villagers are complaining,” Mr Pool said “His screaming at night is too much. I’m sorry, but it’s hurting my business.”
“But Mr Pool, we have nowhere to go,” his mum said.
“Well, ye need to start looking for another place to live,” he said, “I’m sorry.”
Neilan could hear his mum having a coughing fit in the front room then, a few minutes later she came into his room and sat down on his bed.
“Why do they hate me so much?” Neilan asked.
“They don’t hate ye Neilan, they are just confused that’s all,” she said. “Ye get some sleep now, I have to try to find a place for us to live tomorrow.”
“I don’t want to sleep,” Neilan said.
“I know love,” she said stroking his hair “I wish I could keep all the monsters away from ye, but I can’t. Try to get some sleep.”
Neilan did try, but that night, like every night since his fourteenth birthday, the nightmares returned, full of strange looking creatures, evil, violence and death.
The next morning Neilan got up and prepared to take his meat and furs down to the market as he always did. He was just coming around the cottage from the back garden when Mr Pool met him.
“No need to go down to the market today,” he said, “no one is going to buy yer goods anymore.”
“What? Why?” Neilan asked.
“Sorry son, people just don’t feel comfortable with ye around. Go get yer mum, I need to speak to ye both.”
Neilan gave Mr Pool an angry look then, went into the cottage to get his mum.
“Mum” Neilan said standing at her bedroom door. “Mr Pool is at the door and needs to talk to us.”
“What?” his mum said “at this time in the morning? Ok, give me a minute.”
Neilan waited for her to get dressed and they went outside to speak to Mr Pool.
“What’s this all about?” she asked Mr Pool.
“Listen, Louise, I’m really sorry, but the council had a meeting and they want ye out of the village today.”
“What?” she said, “all because of a few nightmares?”
“Louise, ye know full well that this is about a lot more than nightmares,” he said.
“Then what?” she asked, “What is so terrible about my boy, Mr Pool?”
Mr Pool looked around nervously then looked back at Neilan’s mum.
“The parents in the village are worried about yer son being around their children
,” he said. “They don’t trust him and the nightmares just added to the already uncomfortable situation.”
“So, yer just throwing us out?” she asked, “just like that?”
Mr Pool looked at the ground again. “I’m sorry Louise, ye need to be out today,” he said, as he turned and walked away.
Neilan’s mum just stood there with her mouth open and tears running down her face and Neilan could feel his face becoming flushed by his anger and hate. That morning Neilan and his mum packed up their things. They really didn’t own much except their clothes and Neilan’s hunting things; everything else belonged to Mr Pool.
“Ye don’t worry,” his mum said to him “we will go to the village of Vulan. We’re sure to find a place to stay there.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Neilan said grabbing their things and following his mum out the door.
They headed out of the village and Neilan could see the villagers watching them from their windows. He truly hated them for how they had treated his mum. They walked out of town and past the Blacksmith’s shop on their way towards the forest, but before they even made it past the Blacksmith’s shop, Neilan’s mum had a bad coughing fit and had to stop and rest.
“Yer too weak, mum,” Neilan said.
“I’ll be ok,” she said, “I just need a rest.”
Neilan heard a voice coming from the back of the Blacksmith’s shop and looked over to see Mr Bram peaking around the corner and motioning him to come over.
“I’ll be right back, mum,” Neilan said and walked over to the fence that was attached to the back of the Smithy.
Mr Bram kept himself hidden behind the corner of the building so no one would see him.
“Boy, I have a stable just out of town,” he said, “It’s not much, but ye can stay there if ye need to.”
“Why are ye helping us?” Neilan asked.
“I don’t agree with the council,” Mr Bram said “but I can’t afford to lose my business either. It’s just out of town on the right if ye need it. No fires though and stay out of sight.”
Mr Bram disappeared back inside and Neilan returned to where his mum was resting.
“Come on Mum,” Neilan said, helping her to her feet. “I’ve found us a place to stay for a while.”
They walked down the road until they came to a stable on the right side and went in. The stable was a filthy place and no place for his mum to live, but he didn’t have much of a choice.
“At least we can keep warm and dry,” Neilan said, “we can stay here until ye feel well enough to travel.”
He found a place for his mum to lie down and he started cleaning up the stable as best he could. He could hear his mum’s coughs coming from deeper and deeper in her chest; she was getting worse every day.
“Mum, I’ll be right back,” Neilan said and he went back outside and headed back towards the Blacksmith’s shop.
Jumping over the back fence, he peeked into the smithy looking for Mr Bram. He didn’t hear anyone inside so he called out to Mr Bram as quietly as he could. A moment later, Mr Bram came out with wide eyes and looking around nervously.
“Ye better be careful,” he said, “if someone was to see ye, we’d both be in a lot of trouble. What do ye want?”
“My mum is sick,” Neilan said, “I can trade ye meat and furs for blankets and medicine.”
Mr Bram looked around again, “Ok,” he said, “I’ll bring the blankets and the medicine I have to the stable tonight. Now, ye better get out of here.”
“Thank ye, sir” Neilans said jumping back over the fence and heading back to the stable.
That Night, Mr Bram brought them some blankets and some medicine for Neilan’s mum and in return, Neilan gave Mr Bram the meat and furs that he was going to sell in the market that morning.
“Thank ye sir” Neilan said. Mr Bram nodded and was about to leave then, he turned around.
“Neilan, I could use some help in the smithy if yer interested?” he said “it doesn’t pay much, but ye can learn a good trade at least.”
“Thank ye, sir” Neilan said, “when should I be there?”
“Ye best show up before the sun,” Mr Bram said, “and don’t be seen.”
“Yes sir,” Neilan said, “Thank ye.”
Mr Bram left and Neilan sat down by his mum’s side and gave her some of the medicine that Mr Bram had given them.
“He is a nice man,” his mum said, “ye listen to him.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Neilan said as he wrapped some blankets around her.
“Yer a good boy,” she said as she closed her eyes, “a good boy.”
Neilan sat by his mum’s side as she slept; it was his turn to take care of her like she had taken care of him. He couldn’t even count the number of times she had sat by his bedside as he tried to sleep. Life had always been a struggle for Neilan, with the large forehead and the birthmark. He was constantly in fights and the villagers always shunned him. He was pretty sure that they only bought his furs and meat out of concern for his sick mother, but they weren’t concerned anymore. He owed her so much; she was his strength. But he couldn’t help but think that she would have been a lot better off if he had not been born.
The next day Neilan began to help Mr Bram in the smithy and Mr Bram taught Neilan the trade of the blacksmith. Soon, Neilan had learned all the techniques that Mr Bram could teach him, for he was a very intelligent boy. Each day Neilan would wake up before dawn, check on his mum then, go down to the blacksmith shop to work. He was able to continue buying medicine for his mum and some heavier blankets, but despite the medicine, she still seemed to be getting worse.
One day, Mr Bram asked Neilan to come into the smithy.
“I have something to teach ye,” he said, “something that will always come in handy in this world and something that I know ye will need.”
Mr Bram grabbed a long piece of steel from the table and walking over to the forge, he plunged it into the red coals.
“Pump the bellows,” he said.
Neilan started pumping up and down on the apparatus that blew the air into the forge to make the fire hotter.
After a few minutes Mr Bram pulled the steel out of the fire and it was glowing red hot. Then he showed Neilan how to hammer the steel in just the right way while it was hot and form it to the shape he wanted.
“What are we making,” Neilan asked.
Mr Bram smiled with delight. “Something I have not made in several years, my boy.”
He put the steel back into the fire and grabbed a piece of paper from the bench beside him.
“Here it is,” he said showing the paper to Neilan. “Believe it or not, an old blind man gave this to me.”
There on the piece of paper was the most amazing looking sword Neilan had ever seen. Of course, he had not seen that many swords in his life; most of the men in the village didn’t wear a sword. Mr Bram and Neilan worked on into the night heating the steel and then hammering it into shape, then heating it again. Finally, Neilan could see the sword blade taking shape before his eyes. He had never made something himself before, except for the horseshoes that Mr Bram had taught him to make. Finally, about midnight the blade was finished, but they needed a handle for it.
“I have an idea, I’ll be right back,” Neilan said.
He ran back to the stable and grabbed a horn from a Great Fighland Deer that he had shot the month before. The Great Fighland Deer was twice the size of a normal deer and their antlers were as thick as Neilan’s wrist at the base. Mr Bram was impressed with Neilan’s creative thinking.
“This will look incredible,” he said, as he showed Neilan how to fit the blade with a piece of the horn.
Then, they wrapped leather strips up and down the handle to give it a more comfortable grip. They stood in the smithy marvelling at their work in the light of the forge fire.
“It is the most beautiful sword I have ever seen,” said Mr Bram. “Swing it around a few times and see how it feels.”
Neilan stepped back and gave
the sword a few swings.
“It feels perfect,” he said, “It’s light, yet I can feel its strength.”
“That’s because of the technique that I taught ye,” Mr Bram said, “It makes the steel very strong without adding a lot of weight.”
Neilan could see that Mr Bram was very proud of their achievement. Neilan was proud too, but even more than that, he was happy to have a man like Mr Bram in his life. It felt good to learn from such a good man.
“Its yer’s,” Mr Bram said, “treat it well.”
Neilan could not believe his ears. “I will sir,” he replied with a big smile “thank ye, I will.”
“Ye will need this too,” Mr Bram said, handing Neilan a sheath for the sword.
It was just a common leather sheath, but to Neilan it was perfect.
Mr Bram was a kind man, but his generosity did not go unrewarded, for Neilan was very good with a bow. It was not uncommon for him to spend a few hours in the woods and bring home enough food for several days. Mr Bram’s table was never devoid of good meat, but Neilan and his mum were not allowed inside Mr Bram’s home; he could not afford for the villagers to know that he was harbouring the boy in his stable.
Things were difficult for Neilan and his mum, but at least they were able to survive; that is until winter came. Neilan could see his mum’s health getting worse, even though she said she felt fine. She could not hide the truth from him anymore with her weak smiles. Then, one night, Neilan was awakened by the sound of his mum’s coughs and laboured breathing. He could see the white cloud that formed every time she exhaled into the cold stable air. Even with the blankets that they had purchased from Mr Bram, it was still too cold at night for a woman of such delicate health. His mum’s health had been slowly deteriorating for several days and she was now spending almost all day in bed. Neilan had given her his blanket as well to keep her warm and he slept each night buried in the hay. For days, Neilan tried to help his mum using the medicines that Mr Bram was able to purchase in the village, but they were not able to afford much; not the medicines that she really needed. All Neilan could do was to keep her comfortable and hope for the best.